


Tending the Flames: Side Stories

by Thanatopsiturvy



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Body Swap, Drabbles, F/M, Forehead Touch, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, OC Romance Week, OC Swap, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Trying something new, fake relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-16 14:06:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19319713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy
Summary: Filled prompts from OC Romanace Week on tumblr byArtemisMoonsong!Each chapter will have a different pairing, and I've borrowed OCs fromraunchyandpaunchy,FourCatProductions,diamond_sunstorm, and ArtemisMoonsong. Thanks for lending me your brain-children!Chapter 1 - Nazir/Azarath (OC Male Dunmer)Chapter 2 - Aerik (OC Male Nord-Altmer)/Casien (OC Male Dunmer)Chapter 3 - Brynjolf/Nadine Rielle (OC Female Breton)Chapter 4 - Azarahd (OC Male Khajiit)/Dharmash (OC Male Khajiit)Chapter 5 - Ulfric Stormcloack/Nilandur (Male Altmer OC)Chapter 6 - Ulfric Stormcloak/Luminwe (Female Altmer-Nord OC)





	1. The Straw that Broke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azarath and Nazir share a bed for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you FourCatProductions for letting me borrow Azarath!! I love him. You can read all about him in [The Rose and Thorn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915025).
> 
> **Word Count: 419**   
>  **Chapter Rating: M (for language)**

Nazir fell back on the bed heavily, panting, exhausted. Azarath was wearing a self-satisfyed smirk that was both infuriating and made him want to fuck the mer all over again. 

_ “Don’t look so smug,” _ Nazir signed tiredly with a low laugh. Azarath just inclined his head, quirking an eyebrow, before dipping down to gingerly kiss the scarred sigil carved over Nazir’s heart, his dark, sex-mussed hair curtaining around his face, sliding over his shoulders like ink. 

Nazir waited until Azarath looked up again to sign,  _ “Will you stay with me?” _

Another maddening smile.  _ “Yes.” _

 

In the newness of whatever their growing relationship entailed, they’d never shared a bed. They pressed close at first, still buzzing in the after glow of a good fuck, but soon drifted apart, each to their own side. Nazir ran a hand through Azarath’s hair one last time before shifting to lie on his back, eyes heavy with sleep. He heard Azarath sigh contentedly and smiled to himself. 

 

He was later awoken to a swift punch in the stomach. 

 

Nazir sat bolt upright in bed, fully prepared to kill his attacker, only to see Azarath signing furiously in the dim light of the room. 

“Slow down,” Nazir said groggily, unable to process the Unspoken language while still sleep-drunk. 

_ “You keep kicking me.”  _ Azarath signed, so slowly that the condescension was unmistakable.

_ “Kick?”  _ Nazir signed back, still frustratingly sluggish. 

_ “Yes, and your toenails are fucking sharp.” _

 

Nazir looked around them, noticing that he was taking up only a sliver of the mattress, practically clinging to the edge. 

_ “Give me more room to sleep and I won’t kick,” _ he shot back.

_ “I’ll sleep on the damn floor,” _ Azarath signed with a low growl. 

“No,” Nazir said out loud, shaking his head, laughing if only at the absurdity of it all.  _ “Come here,” _ he signed. Azarath was glaring at him, unmoving, so Nazir repeated the sign. With an eye roll, Azarath let Nazir pull him to his chest, falling back down against the bed. They lay in almost a petulant silence for a while before Azarath’s hands began to move, tracing the lines of Nazir’s muscles with his calloused fingers. Nazir hummed low in his chest, knowing Azarath could feel the vibrations. He shifted their positions, pressing the mer into the mattress beneath him and bringing their mouths together, his hunger flaring as Azarath rolled his hips upwards. 

  
Maybe they just weren’t meant to  _ sleep _ in the same bed. There were plenty of other activities to choose from.   


	2. In My Time of Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casien recieves a less-than-warm weclome in Windlhelm, and Aerik can't help but stand up for the little Dunmer that wandered into Candlehearth Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks ArtemisMoonsong for letting me borrow Casien for the day! He's an absolute gem. (〃‿〃✿) And, in turn, inspired me to write possibly the most wholesome thing I've ever written. (Aren't we a good influence on each other?)  
> (I've aged him up a bit in this).
> 
> You can read all about Casien and his adventures in Artemis's story: [The (Really and Truly Inspiring) Story of Casien Yedlin](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1152035).
> 
>  **Word Count: 1775**  
>  **Chapter Rating: G**  
>  (I know, I know.... the _scandal_... me, writing something G rated).

“We don’t server Dunmer.” 

 

Aerik’s ears perked up as he made his way down the stairs from the upper level of Candlehearth Hall. Elda had her arms crossed defensively from behind the bar, scowling at a small dark elf with a ratty satchel on his back. 

“Please, I’m not here to cause trouble. I just need a place to stay for the night,” the young mer reasoned. 

“Go try the Gray Quarters where your kind belongs,” Elda insisted, and Aerik felt his blood begin to boil. 

“Please,” he tried again, voice cracking slightly. Aerik cleared his throat loudly, putting on his best smile. 

“There you are my darling!” he called out, waving. “I thought you might have gotten lost.” 

 

The Dunmer whirled around, eyes wide, and oh, what a precious thing he was — a curly mess of black hair, clever, dark eyes, and once Aerik drew closer he noticed a smattering of soft freckles across the boy’s cheeks, which had suddenly flushed a lovely shade of purple. 

“I’m… sorry?” he stuttered, eyebrows creased in confusion. 

“Don’t be sorry!” Aerik responded slightly too loud, wrapping and arm around the mer’s thin shoulders. “Windhelm can be confusing! Elda, love, this is a simple misunderstanding. This here is my fiance. Be a dear and put him up for the night?” 

Elda laughed, a raspy, barking sound. “Your fiance, huh? Why can’t he just stay in your room then, _ Aerik _ ?”

Aerik gasped in exaggerated shock, placing a hand across his chest. “Elda! I wouldn’t dare share a bed with my husband-to-be before we’re married! Think of the scandal that would cause! The gossip would absolutely ruin my good reputation.” Elda raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Aerik’s expression dropped into annoyance, his arm going slack across the mer’s shoulders. “Listen, I’ll give you twenty septims to put the kid up for the night.” 

“You should have just started with that,” she grumbled, holding a hand out expectantly. Aerik sighed, reached into his coin purse, and tossed the gold onto the counter. Elda threw the key in his direction with the same amount of courtesy.

“You’re an absolute saint.” Aerik’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he steered the small Dunmer away from the counter and down the hall towards the rooms. 

 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, I know…” Aerik released the boy’s shoulders and waved the comment away. “I just can’t stand how they treat Dunmer in this city.” They stopped outside the mer’s room. “What’s your name?”

“Um, Casien. Casien Yedlin.” The boy tucked a wild curl of hair behind his ear which immediately sprung free again. 

Aerik chuckled. “Well my name’s Aerik. Aerik Havardr,” he offered, extending his hand in greeting. Casien took it tentatively, his fingers soft against Aerik’s palm.

“Can I buy you some dinner? A drink? You…  _ are _ old enough to drink, aren’t you?” 

Casien seemed to ruffle at that. “I’m twenty!” 

“Ah, lovely. I was worried you were my child bride there for a bit. So, dinner and a drink then?” 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Casien asked suspiciously. 

Aerik shrugged. “You looked like you needed a friend. And you look hungry.” Casien’s stomach took that moment to growl loudly and Aerik couldn’t help the knowing grin that spread across his face. 

 

“How about you freshen up and you can meet me upstairs, hmm?”      

 

—

 

Casien looked uncomfortable, eyes darting nervously between the various Nord patrons that milled around in the upstairs. Once his food arrived, however, he seemed to lose all interest in his surroundings and scarfed it down greedily. 

“Take a breath, love, nobody’s going to take it from you,” Aerik suggested, taking a measured sip of his mead. Casien looked up at him with wide eyes, cheeked puffed out with food. 

He swallowed with a loud gulp and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s just been a couple of days since I’ve eaten.” 

Aerik leaned forward, brow creasing. “What in the name of Azura is a sweet thing like you doing in a city like this?” His lip twitched at the flush that crept up Casien’s neck and across his cheeks. 

“I…” He coughed, averting his eyes. “It’s a long story. I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s alright?” Picking up his fork again, he seemed to make a concerted effort to eat slower. Aerik could understand not wanting to talk about the past. He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, bringing his mead to his lips once again. 

 

The sound of Luaffyn’s playing filtered over from across the room and Aerik grinned. “I’ll be right back,” he said, before swiftly rising to his feet and leaving Casien to look after him in confusion. 

“Luaffyn, my dearest, your lute playing is spectacular this evening,” Aerik beamed, waltzing over. The Dunmer woman blushed with a curtsy. 

“You’re flattery is terrible, Aerik,” she giggled. “What is it that you want?”

“Can I borrow that for a minute?” He pointed at her lute, flashing his most charming smile. She rolled her eyes, but handed it over with a smile. 

“Try not to outshine me.”   
Aerik just winked, making his way back over to where Casien still sat, eyeing the lute curiously. 

 

“You play the lute?” he asked, suddenly a bit more interested. His plate was practically licked clean and pushed to the side of the table.He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands, watching Aerik check the instrument's tuning. 

“That I do,” Aerik nodded with a grin. “Figured I’d serenade you — cheer you up a bit more.” 

Casien flushed, sitting back abruptly. “Oh, no, that’s not… you don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t!” It was becoming a predictable exchange. “I rarely do things because I  _ have _ to.” Aerik strummed the lute once, moving through several different chords before playing one of the jauntier tunes he knew. Casien had leaned forward again, tapping his toe beneath the table and swaying his head. He closed his eyes and smiled the smallest little smile, and Aerik was pretty confident that the young mer might be the cutest thing he’d ever seen. It was inspiring.    

 

_ “Child of fire, it’s you I desire, _

_ In a city so far from home.  _

_ Your presence divine, oh won’t you be mine?  _

_ For you, I have written this poem!” _

 

Casien was snapped from his brief reverie and he blushed furiously. “You did  _ not _ just write a song about me!” He laughed, covering his eyes.

“I’m afraid I did,” Aerik said as he continued to play. “Would you like me to write more? I’m fairly good at improvising.” 

“This is too much...” Casien laughed again, shaking his head, his soft curls swaying from side to side. “So you’re a bard?”    
“What gave it away?” Aerik grinned cheekily, setting the lute down. 

“You like history then?” Casien’s eyes were bright and curious as he leaned across the table. And just like that, they were off. Casien, it seemed, could talk endlessly about history and poetry and literature and had Aerik scrambling to recall the things he’d learned at the College just to keep up. The precious thing was also starting to sip a little more on his meade, which made him even chattier. At one point, Aerik simply sat back in his seat and just listened, content to let the kid ramble for as long as he wanted. 

 

“Aerik,” Luaffyn called as she walked primly over. “May I have my lute back?” Aerik tore his eyes away from Casien to smile at her.

“Of course! Sorry about that, I got quite distracted.” He picked the lute up from where it leaned against his chair and handed it to her. 

She brushed her fingers over his as she took it and smiled coyly at him. “It sounded lovely.”

“Thank you! That means a lot coming from a performer such as yourself.” He grinned. She seemed to oscillate for a moment and Aerik’s grin faltered.

“Will you be in town long this time?” she asked finally. 

“Ah,” Aerik scratched the back of his neck, tossing his long braid over his shoulder. “Afraid not. I set out for Solstheim tomorrow... not sure when I’ll be back.” Luaffyn seemed to deflate, smiling sadly. 

“Well, you shall be missed,” she said with a bow, moving away from the table. Casien was looking at Aerik with a smug, knowing little expression. 

“What is it?” 

“She likes you.”

Aerik let out a bit of a sputter, laughing tightly. “We’re just friends. Besides, she’s not my type.” 

Casien’s expression dropped and he averted his eyes, beginning to pick at a small splinter on the table. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Dunmer aren’t quite as beautiful as Nords, I suppose.” 

Aerik sighed, smirking. “ _ Women _ aren’t my type,” he clarified, adding, “Dunmer most certainly are,” with a wink. The tips of Casien’s ears turned purple almost immediately and he took a hasty swig of his mead. Well, that answered that. 

 

They finished up their drinks and Aerik left a little extra coin for Suzanna on the table before walking Casien to his room.

“Thank you, again, for everything. I’m sorry I don’t have any money to pay you back.”

“Your company alone was worth every septim.” Aerik smiled. “Besides,” he tapped his cheek. “You could always just give me a kiss and we’ll call it even.”

Casien flushed again, and Aerik was starting to get a little addicted to that lovely bloom of fuschia across the boy’s cheeks. He looked taken aback for only a moment before his brows creased in determination and he stepped forward. Aerik bent down slightly and turned his head, presenting his cheek as Casien raised himself up onto his tiptoes.

 

With some force, the young mer placed his hands on either side of Aerik’s face, turned him forward, and planted the kiss firmly on his lips instead. Aerik hummed in approval, smiling against Casien’s mouth briefly before they pulled apart. The little Dunmer was wearing that same smug expression that he’d seen earlier, as if he’d really pulled one over on Aerik. And wasn’t that adorable? 

“That all you got, Cassie?” Aerik challenged, huffing in amusement. Casien seemed to bristled, grabbing Aerik by the collar of his shirt and pulling him back down, mashing their mouths together even more forcefully than before. Aerik laughed into the kiss, bending forward and scooping Casien up into his arms. The mer wrapped his legs around his waist almost instinctively, and Aerik shifted his weight and pressed into room behind them, and bumped the door shut with his hips. 

 

Perhaps they could have just shared a room after all. 


	3. A Chance Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynjolf and Nadine decide to spice up their (already quite interesting) sex life with a specialty made spell scroll - guarunteed to give them the experience of a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [raunchyandpaunchy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raunchyandpaunchy) for letting me borrow Nadine for this story! She's adorable and lovely and I love her. You can read all about Nadine's exploits in [The Edged Lexicon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758052).
> 
> **Word Count: 1704**   
>  **Chapter Rating: E (Contains graphic depictions of sexual acts)**

“So, essentially, I’ll activate the scroll, and we’ll have approximately twenty minutes.” Nadine was flattening their freshly acquired scroll against the stone floor, kneeling with her feet tucked beneath her as she studied the inscriptions. Brynjolf was bent down looking over her shoulder, standing just behind her. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger across his beard thoughtfully. 

“I dunno, lass. What if it’s permanent?”

“That’s impossible,” Nadine laughed, though now the paranoia was in the back of her mind. She cleared her throat, pointing at one of the sigils. “Look, right here, see? This limits the casting duration.”

“You Bretons and your magic,” Brynjolf chuckled, ruffling her thick hair before bending to place a slow, open mouthed kiss on her neck. “Shall we get on with it then?” She shivered at the scratch of his stubble, heat already pooling between her legs.

“Might as well,” she laughed breathily. They both looked over at Drevis who stood, still visible, in the corner.    
“Yes, yes,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll help clean up any magical mess you two might cause,” he promised with a smirk, before promptly blipping out of sight.

 

“Alright,” Nadine exhaled, nervous energy dancing through her body. “Sit across from me.” She picked up the scroll, holding it in front of her as Brynjolf situated himself on the floor opposite her. She took one last moment to study the sigils, memorizing the patterns, before rolling it back up and holding it tightly in both her hands. She let magicka flow through her, down here arms, arching into her palms. The scroll dissolved, leaving only white-hot power in its wake. She molded the energy, sculpted it, felt the pull and the push, before raising her hands upwards and dropping the spell down around them with a thunderous clap.        

 

Nadine coughed, waving the smoke away from her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a strange sensation in her low back — a dull ache that she’d never noticed before. 

“Uhg,” she groaned and... oh….  _ Oh. _ Her voice was deep  and resonant. She looked down at her hands, thick, calloused, dry. “Oh my…” She looked up, locking eyes with… herself. 

“Nadine?” Her own self asked, her voice heavy with a thick Nordic brogue. 

“Oh my gods!” she nearly squealed through Brynjolf’s vocal chords. “It actually worked!” 

“I dinnae like this…” Brynjolf began as he looked down at his new body. “Oh...” He took both of Nadine’s luscious breasts into his hands, giving them a firm squeeze, then another. Nadine was just grinning at him, still fairly disoriented over watching herself squeeze her own tits. 

“I thought squeezing them would feel better than that for you,” he admitted with a sheepish smile and Nadien couldn’t help the giddy laugh that bubbled up.

“Does your low back  _ always hurt _ ?” Nadine finally asked, realizing what the dull ache was as she shifted to stand.   

“Ah, yeah, a bit,” Brynjolf admitted, running a hand experimentally through his long, black hair, pulling it over his shoulder to look at it. “Not nearly as bad as it used to.” He winked and it was truly odd to see such unabashed confidence on her own face.

 

“So, we don’t have much time. What would you like…?”

“You know what I’d like, lass,” Brynjolf purred, crawling towards her. 

“Isn’t this weird for you? To see yourself?” 

“I’d much prefer to  _ feel _ myself.”

“Oh,” Nadine swallowed, reaching up to run a hand across the stubble on her neck. Brynjolf’s armor was incredibly heavy. She could actually feel the rush of blood as her arousal gathered, accompanied by a very uncomfortable pressure.    

“Those are starting to look a bit tight, yeah?” Brynjolf climbed into her lap, raking his small hands through her hair, yanking just hard enough to tip her head back and expose her throat. 

“Why’d you wear your full armor to do this?” Nadine asked, trying to sound frustrated, but instead sounded breathy and shaky. She, at least, had had the common decency to wear a breezy little dress. Brynjolf licked a line along her jaw, biting the lobe of her ear. 

“I wanted to give you the full experience.” And wasn’t that strange to hear in her own voice, in that very distinctive accent? Nadine swallowed and groaned, the pressure in her pants becoming unreasonably tight. 

“Please, sir,” she said intuitively. 

“Call me ma’am… lad,” Brynjolf responded, and it should have been at least a little funny, but Nadine was feeling utterly thrown, her arousal so thick she swore she could smell it. 

 

Brynjolf released her hair and she fell back onto her elbows, watching with heavy breath as he deftly and confidently undid her belt buckle. She groaned low and long as her erection finally sprang free, slapping against the leather cuirass that still hugged her stomach too tightly. Brynjolf seemed to be moving with single-minded focus. 

“Lie back,” he ordered, and Nadine did, her low back protesting as she lowered herself the rest of the way to the ground. Swiftly, Brynjolf pulled up the hem of his dress and tied the whole thing into a knot at his side, leaving him naked from the waist down. Nadine’s mouth watered. As if reading her mind, he shifted around, planting a  knee on each side of her head. Leaning forward he grabber confidently her erection by its base. She sucked in air through her teeth, craning her neck to look down as Brynjolf pressed a wet, delicate kiss to the tip. 

“Well lass? Lad?” He corrected with a chuckle. She looked up at her own cunt, smiling at how cute it looked from this angle. She wet her lips. Grabbing onto either side of Brynjolf’s hips and straining her neck upwards, she let her breath ghost over his clit. 

“Oh…  _ gods _ …” Brynjolf shuddered mid lick. “More…” He pressed down against her mouth impatiently, letting out a long, keening whine as Nadine laved her tongue along his clit. 

“ _ Fuck! _ ” he cursed sharply as Nadine pulled the small nib into her mouth and sucked. “...I… it’s so…” He groaned, cutting off mid-thought to tip forward and swallow Nadine down. She let out a hot, breathy exhale, her hips bucking into his mouth automatically, making him gag just a little. 

“Sorry,” she giggled, giving his clit another swipe. “Kind of hard to control that thing.” 

Brynjolf pulled off her dick with a wet sound. “Understanding a bit better now, eh lass?” 

“Mmm… And how about you?” Another lick. “How’s your understanding?” 

 

She loved the feeling of how low her voice was, how the vibrations of it seemed to roll through her own body. She growled as low as she could, just to feel it, as Brynjolf took her back into his mouth to suck almost viciously hard, reaching down to cup her balls and  _ that was a lovely touch _ . Her hips began to move on their own accord again and she grit her teeth against the hot, wet heat of Bynjolf’s…  _ her _ mouth. The man could work a cock - she could see why Nazir liked him so much. 

“Bryn… You gotta… I want to…” she stuttered, thoughts becoming more scattered and incohesive. Brynjolf pulled off with another wet pop and looked at her between their bodies, grinning. He sat up suddenly, pressing his cunt down onto Nadine’s face and rolling it into her mouth. She let out a muffled grunt of surprise, but quickly got to work, knowing exactly what her body liked. 

“By the  _ gods _ I’m…  _ fucking ruined _ ,” Brynjolf panted, grinding against her tongue. He reached up to pinch his own nipples, moaning like a wanton whore. Nadine licked and sucked, shaking her head side to side as she pressed her tongue  _ hard _ against his clit. 

“FUCK!” She felt him quiver above her, warmth spreading across her lips and chin. “I… cannae…” he panted, leaning forward again. 

“Sit on my cock,” Nadine said, feeling bold and proud of herself. Brynjolf laughed deliriously, but shuffled slowly until he was turned back around, thighs shaking as he grabbed her dick by the base and slowly slid himself down. 

“ _ Oh _ …” they both said in unison, laughing. 

Nadine ran her hands up Brynjolf’s thighs, exhaling shakily. “That does feel  _ quite _ satisfying,” she breathed, bucking up into him. She groaned again. “Especially when it’s all the way in…” 

“Aye…” Brynjolf panted. “This feels fucking amazing.” He ground his hips in a circle before leaning forward, planting his hands across her chest and Nadine had never really noticed how small her own hands were.

“Fuck up into me, lass,” Brynjolf purred causing Nadine to feel hot from head to toe. She resituated herself, getting her feet beneath her - the thick soles of Bryn’s leather boots helping with traction - and snapped her hips up. They both cried out, breathless. 

“Again,” Bryn demanded. 

 

Nadine felt a primal urge rip through her body like lightning. She growled deep in her throat, grabbing Brynjolf by the hair and began to piston her hips in earnest. Brynjolf was practically screaming in her ear, punctuated with each thrust. The world felt like it was crashing down around her, blood pounding in her ear, pleasure spiking through her lower stomach and dancing along her spine, Brynjolf’s breath hot and fast against her cheek -  _ her own breath. _ It was surreal and beautiful and almost terrifyingly erotic and Brynjolf reached out and grabber her by the throat, tightening, and she came - white spots blazing behind her eyes and she squeezed them shut, gritting her teeth, pumping up into that tight heat as many more times as she could stand as the pleasure seemed to roll out of her in waves. 

 

There was an odd popping sensation, like being too high up on a mountain, and Nadine felt the world shift radically around her. She gasped, disoriented as she returned to her own body, falling forward against Brynjolf’s chest. All sensations were familiar again, her own post-orgasmic haze wrapping around her like a warm blanket. Brynjolf was laughing in his own voice, deep and rumbling and breathless. Her laughter soon joined in and they let themselves go, chuckling giggidily against each other’s necks. She gave him a kiss, running her hands through his sweat-damp hair. 

“That was fun.”

“Aye.”  


	4. The Burglary Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Modern AU**
> 
>  
> 
> Azarahd and Dharmash, two of the Guild's finest, are sent to retrieve some particularly sensitive information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to FourCatProductions for letting me borrow one of his characters! Dharmash is terrifying and sexy and you can read all about him in [Fool's Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/series/400768). (Mind the tags on that one, gentle readers). 
> 
> I enjoyed writing in a modern setting quite a bit - a fun exercise! 
> 
> **Word Count:** 1778  
>  **Chapter Rating:** E (graphic depictions of sex and violence)

“We are running out of time.” Dharmash spoke low and calm in Azarahd’s ear as an alarm began to blare through the building. It was a gross understatement. Azarahd ignored him, pulling his lock pick and tension wrench out of the door and taking a step back. He pulled his handgun from its holster, aimed it at the lock, and fired off two rounds. Dharmash ducked, covering his ears, before baring his teeth and growling. 

“You fucking  _ idiot _ ,” he hissed. 

Azarahd just shrugged. “This was faster.” He shouldered into the room. 

 

The office didn’t stand out any more than the countless others that Ahz had broken into in his short time in Skyrim - all rich assholes seemed to have the same, minimalist, mid-century-modern taste. Dharmash made a b-line for the large War-Bear safe that stood against the far wall, like a monolith in the darkened room, and Azarahd stayed by the door, gun still at the ready. His fellow Khajiit made quick work of the combination, as he was well-known for at this point — there wasn’t a safe in Solitude that Dharmash couldn’t crack. In fact, there were very few left that he hadn’t. This one, though? This was a big one. This was for a  _ big _ client. Mercer hadn’t mentioned a name, but he’d implied that their tails were on the line, quite literally.

 

Azarahd heard the satisfying thunk of the safe yielding and Dharmash quickly spun the three-spoked handle, yanking the door open. There were guns. Lots of guns. 

Azarahd let out a whistle through his teeth. “Tempting.”

“Job first, then take what else we can fit,” Dharmash said, already shuffling through a small stack of manilla folders that he’d pulled from a thin box. He let out a frustrated growl, shuffling through them again before turning to look over his shoulder. “It’s not here.”

“It has to be here,” Azarahd hissed, abandoning his post and striding over to the safe. 

Dharmash’s ears flattened against his head. “Do you think I play games?” His lip curled in a silent snarl. “It. Isn’t. Here.”  

Azarahd snatched the folders out of his hand, skimming through the labels. “It isn’t here…” he repeated numbly. 

 

“We need to leave.” Dharmash stood abruptly, beginning to shove as many of the smaller guns from the safe into his satchel as he could fit. “Take these.” He tossed Ahz a handgun. “Anything. Make it look like an average robbery.” Azarahd leapt into action, grabbing a shotgun and strapping it to his back, shoving a cartridge of rounds into his rucksack. He knew this wouldn’t look like an average robbery no matter what they did. This client was high profile. What fools would break into a high-security building to steal some guns? His ears swiveled backwards suddenly, Dharmash’s doing the same. Someone was approaching. Dharmash’s haunting silver eyes locked with Azarahd’s, and he raised a finger to his mouth, silently shushing him. The darker Khajiit shifted like a shadow, prowling towards the door and flattening himself against the wall. Azarahd crouched low and moved silently behind the desk to his left, steadying his hands on it’s surface and training his handgun on the door. 

 

The figure stopped outside the door and Azarahd heard him take a breath before the door swung open and a wide-eyed security guard was already sweeping his gun around the room, eyes squinting in the dark.

“Freeze!” the human demanded to no one in particular. Dharmash was behind him, silent, deadly. He swiftly wrapped his massive forearm around the man’s neck and the stupid human dropped his gun almost instantly. Azarahd leapt over the desk to kick it away, his own gun still trained on the struggling figure. Dharmash looked at Azarahd as he continued to squeeze, shutting off the man’s oxygen supply, and Ahz felt an odd curl of arousal and fear at the base of his spine. The security guard’s arms soon went limp, his struggle halting, and Dharmash lowered him to the floor. 

“We have less than four minutes before he wakes,” he said coldly, jerking his head towards the only window in the room. 

Azarahd’s eyebrows shot up. “We are a bit high up…” 

“Then may Nocturnal allow you to land on your feet,” Dharmash smiled cruelly before grabbing his pack and striding to the window. Azarahd moved around the back of the desk to grab his bag where he had dropped it. The flash of a lock caught his attention - one he hadn’t noticed before. He eyed Dharmash warily, before sheathing his gun and grabbing his lockpicks. 

 

_ “What are you doing?” _ Dharmash hissed in Ta’agra.  _ “We have no time!” _ Azarahd ignored him, sliding the small tools into the cold metal and steadying his breathing. He felt the tension against the pads of his fingers, so slight, delicate. Dharmash’s tail swished impatiently, but he otherwise stood stock still. The lock slowly began to turn and Azarahd bit down lightly on his tongue.  _ Click _ . He quickly pulled the drawer open. Inside was a single USB marked with the symbol of a small, stylized dagger. Azarahd held it up with a toothy grin before pocketing it. Dharmash growled, but his eyes flashed mischievously, one long fang peeking out from beneath his lip. Without another word, the two Khajiit slipped out the window and into the night. 

 

Solitude was a city that never slept. Sirens wailed from somewhere downtown, manholes babbled with the echo of rushing water, loud music blasted from a passing car, and in the shadows of a non-descript alleyway, Azarahd moaned into the fur below Dharmash’s jaw.

“Stupid,” the Khajiit hissed into Azarahd’s ear befor sinking his teeth into the side of his neck. 

“Yes…” Azarahd gasped, hands scrambling against Dharmash’s back, sliding down only to glide back up beneath his shirt, combing through the Khajiit’s short, coarse hair with his claws. Dharmash slid a hand down and palmed Ahz’s erection roughly, grinding his own against Azarahd’s thigh.

 

“Please,” Ahz managed to breathe. 

“Quiet.” Dharmash backed away. “Turn around.” Ahz complied, panting wantonly as he pressed his chest and cheek up against the rough bricks of the alley wall, arching his back. Dharmash quickly popped the strap over Ahz’s tail and slid his pants down just below the curve of his ass. Licking the pads of his fingers, he ran them across Azarahd’s hole. 

Ahz sucked in a stuttering breath and cursed. “Is this a reward or a punishment?” he chuckled, hearing Dharmash spit into his palm. 

“Both,” he rumbled before Ahz felt the blunt head of a cock pressing into him. This was going to hurt, he could tell. A part of him, a larger part than he’d usually like to admit, couldn’t wait.

 

By some small grace, Dharmash took his time. His grip was too tight, claws digging in sharply, but he almost mindlessly licked the back of Ahz’s neck as he slowly pushed in, and Ahz couldn’t help the low, rumbling pur that swelled inside his chest. It still burned like an Oblivion gate, and the Khajiit was not small, by any stretch of the imagination. Azarahd pressed himself harder against the wall and let out a long groan as Dharmash grabbed him by the base of his tail and pulled up, making room, sinking all the way in.

“Fuck…” Azarahd panted. He let out a low yowl as Dharmash bit down hard on the scruff of his neck, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. With one hand practically holding him up by his tail, Dharmash reached his other up to clamp down over Ahz’s muzzle, his jaw tightening on his scruff as he rolled his hips forward. 

 

It was sloppy. If felt like they were both constantly about to slip and fall, but somehow Dharmash ground into Azarahd’s ass just right and Ahz panted into Dhamash’s hand and it was filthy and perfect and Azarahd felt utterly high — off the thrill of success, having almost been caught, and being the sole focus of Dharmash’s attention. The pain was overtaken by the pleasure and the satisfaction of  _ finally _ being with someone who knew what to do with his body - how to make him mewl and gasp and beg. He scrambled, finding purchase against the bricks and using his hand to push back, reaching behind with the other to grab onto Dharmash’s ass, pulling him forward at the same time. Dharmash was growling, low and steady, jaws still locked around Azarahd’s scruff.

 

Dharmash pulled his hand away from Azarahd’s mouth and wrapped it around his cock, and Ahz couldn’t help the shuddering cry that ripped from his throat. 

Dharmash released the scruff of his neck. “Quiet,” he repeated, squeezing the head of Ahz’s dick just on the side of too hard. Azarahd bit the inside of his cheeks, whimpering as Dharmash began to pump him in time with his thrusts. It was too much.

“I want to come….” he confessed, his voice wrung out even to his own ears.

“Then come,” Dharmash said like it was just that simple.    

 

Azarahd stretched both his arms up over his head, claws raking against the brick wall, panting raggedly, pushing his hips back against Dharmash’s. The pain was a distant buzz on the edge of his periphery, his pleasure heightened by it’s constant presence. He felt his climax swelling, too large, too tight, stretched thin, like the surface of a balloon. He ground his teeth, thrusting shallowly into the calloused hand around his cock and came with an undignified whimper, splattering the stone, more graffitti to add to the mess that was already there. His arms went slack, sliding down the wall and Dharmash moved in closer, pressing Ahz completely against the brick, canting his hips upwards as his movements became erratic. He stilled and the only way Azarahd knew he’d finished was the hot gush of seed that dripped down his inner thigh as Dharmash pulled out roughly. Ahz winced, breathing raggedly as he pushed himself back, beginning to re-dress. 

“You made a fucking mess,” he complained, feeling Dharmash’s spend still dripping down his leg, almost to his knee. He patted the leg of his trousers, trying to absorb it. His fellow thief had already tucked himself back into his pants and was gathering their things. He didn’t comment, simply got to his feet and tossed Ahz his pack, those moon-like eyes flashing below the street lamps.  

 

Still silent, Dharmash stepped over and bumped their heads together amicably, and Ahz knew that was about as much as he was ever going to get. He smiled smugly, shouldering his pack and followed his friend out of the alleyway and back into the awaiting night.


	5. A Few Words with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nilandur and Ulfric take a stroll through the gardens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh my sweet babe, Nilandur! Getting his own little drabble!   
> This ship started out as a joke in my story, Invictus. (Given, it was kind of just a joke to myself... like "haha, what if...". Then suddenly "... oh... _oh, I love it._ " 
> 
> So, here we are. 
> 
> **Word Count:** 923  
>  **Chapter Rating:** T

Nilandur smiled at the delicate blue butterfly that landed atop the lavender bush. He chuckled as it took flight when the wind rustled the buds, spiraling upwards into the clear blue sky like a loose ribbon. It was a warm day in Solitude, and the crisp spring breeze carried the smallest hint of sea salt and brine. The ends of Nilandur’s hair were beginning to curl from the humidity and he reached up to dab a bit of dampness away from his temple. A figure was moving towards him from across the Blue Palace’s gardens. He looked up only to smile a bit wider as Ulfric Stormcloak strode towards him. Nilandur bowed formally.

“Nilandur,” Ulfric said in simple greeting. “Loitering in the gardens, I see.” 

“I’d hardly call it loitering, your highness.” He straightened back up. “Is there anything you need?” 

“A reprieve,” Ulfric sighed, folding his hands behind his back and looking up at the sky. 

 

Nilandur laughed airly, reaching down to pick a lavender bud. “Don’t tell me you’re tiring of the endless back-and-forth of trade negotiation already?” 

“Hmm, and I couldn’t help but notice that you were absent from the last meeting.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Nilandur faltered, eyebrows creasing. “I thought you said…” Ulfric was smirking at him and he huffed in frustration, averting his eyes to study the delicate bud between his fingertips. 

“You’re too gullible, elf.”  

“I like to think I’m simply trusting.” 

“That, as well.” Ulfric plucked the lavender from Nilandur’s hand and tucked it behind his ear, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his cheek. “But I find it charming.” 

Nilandur felt his face heat, looking up. “And exploitable.” 

“Nonsense,” Ulfric rumbled, moving closer and wrapping an arm around his waist. Nilandur felt a small wave of panic ripple through his body. 

 

“Ulfric, we shouldn’t. Not here…” 

“Why not?”

“There are guards. People. We’re on the grounds.” Nilandur pried Ulfric’s hand from around his waist. “It would be improper.” 

“Can a man not show affection for his friend?” Ulfric argued stubbornly.

Nilandur huffed, quirking an eyebrow. “Is that what you were planning on doing?”

“Of course.” Ulfric moved in close again, cupping the back of Nilandur’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. “A simple, friendly show of affection.” 

“People talk, you know,” Nilandur murmured lowly, but closed his eyes, breathing in their closeness. “They know what goes on between us. I’ve heard what the servants call me.” He let his hands wander to the front of Ulfric’s robes, running his fingertips along the finely woven patterns. 

“I’ll have them put out on the streets,” Ulfric suggested, far too calmly. 

“Entirely unnecessary,” Nilandur chuckled, pulling away. Ulfric was looking at him with a hint of sadness. 

“I apologize if I’ve put you into any compromising positions.”

“Compromising positions?” Nilandur laughed more openly. They began to walk again, slowly, side-by-side. “Quite the phrasing, your highness.” Ulfric just grinned at him, and it was that unguarded smile that he seemed to save for when it was just the two of them, when Nilandur could see the young boy he used to be.  

 

They walked past the Palace and circled around towards the back courtyard. Ulfric made a bit of a show of looking left and right, before guiding Nilandur into an alcove.

“You’re incorrigible,” he laughed quietly as Ulfric pushed him against the cool, stone wall. Ulfric simply hummed deeply, pressing into Nilandur’s space, placing a kiss against his neck. The tickle of his beard caused a shiver to run through Nilandur’s body and he gasped involuntarily.

“And what of your meeting?” he asked shakily and Ulfric nipped his earlobe.

“Still in recess…” he hummed into Nilandur’s ear. “I have time.”

“Ah,” Nilandur swallowed thickly. “Well, so long as you’re acting responsibly.” 

 

Ulfric kissed him fully then, wrapping him up in his arms with desperate, quiet need and undeniable love. Nilandur clung to him as if he might be ripped from his arms at any moment, threading his fingers through his hair to cup the back of his head, grasping at the thick fabric around his waist. Ulfric smelled like home, now — pine and clove and the warmth of a hearthfire. The stone at Nilandur’s back was cold, but Ulfric was  _ right there _ , with all of his heat and insistence and  _ gods _ Nilandur would do anything for this man. He shuddered as Ulfric pressed his tongue into his mouth, moaning despite himself, his body rolling like a wave in response.

“Hmm…” Ulfric hummed as he pulled away and Nilandur gasped like a drowning man. “If I don’t stop now I’ll be late.”

“Can’t…” Nilandur swallowed again. “Can’t have that now, can we?” 

“You’re too distracting.” He leaned in and kissed the hollow beneath Nilandur’s jaw indulgently. “I can’t keep my hands off you.” 

“Must be awfully trying,” Nilandur joked, though he sounded as though he were fit to come apart at the seams. 

“I shall find you after dinner,” Ulfric promised, and Nilandur could only nod. 

 

They kissed once more, but it was chaste. It was a simple goodbye. Nilandur stayed in the alcove for a moment longer, taking the time to fix his hair and allow his heart rate to return to normal. He walked back into the Palace with a placid expression. Una snickered as he passed. 

“That’s a lovely flower,” she said under her breath. Nilandur paused, reaching up to pluck the lavender bud from behind his ear. He twirled it between his fingers, smiling to himself. 

“Thank you!” he called after her. 


	6. Didn't Peg You as the Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric and Luminwe spice up their marriage by bringing a little variety into the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [diamond_sunstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamond_sunstorm/pseuds/diamond_sunstorm) for letting me borrow Luminwe for some good, old-fashioned pegging fun! 
> 
> **Word Count:** 1512  
>  **Chapter Rating:** E (CW: pegging, consensual)

Luminwe tightened the straps around her hips, adjusting the hand-carved length of horker tusk that sat snugly against the front of her pelvis. Ulfric was watching her from the bed, a deep crease between his eyebrows. She gave him a reassuring smile, if not slightly teasing. 

“You’re not having second thoughts now, are you?” 

He huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the pillows. “It just seems a little big.” 

“You’re just as big, you know.” She folded one of the straps, securing it through a loop. “I manage just fine.” He huffed again, still looking nervous. 

 

Luminwe crawled onto the bed and over to him, dipping down to plant a deep kiss against his mouth, pressing a hand against his bare chest.

“You know we don’t have to, right?” It was frustrating to say, but of course there was no way she would force him into something he didn’t want to do. It had started as a joke, then progressed into curiosity, then actual interest. She just wished he would have gotten cold feet before she commissioned the strap-on. Such craftsmanship didn’t come cheap. Nor did the connections she had to forge in order to find an artisan. 

 

“I want to,” Ulfric said stubbornly, running a hand through her hair, briefly thumbing the pointed tip of her ear.

Luminwe smiled, leaning down to rub their noses together. “That’s my king. Now… on your hands and knees.” Ulfric’s face paled slightly and Luminwe saw his jaw tighten, but he nodded. She moved back, giving him room to turn around and she couldn’t help the smile that curved across her lips as he presented himself to her. His vulnerability was hers and hers alone, as was his trust. She ran a hand across the small of his back and heard him exhale shakily. 

“We’re going to make sure it’s comfortable, alright?” She grabbed a small vial of oil from their bedside table and poured a bit onto her fingers. “I want this to feel good for you.” 

“I know you do,” Ulfric rumbled, still not sounding entirely convinced. 

 

He hissed and jerked away as her cool, oiled fingers made their first contact. 

“I’ve barely done anything,” she pointed out flatly. 

“It’s just cold,” Ulfric growled. “You couldn’t have warmed it up at all?” 

“Relax.” She reached around his hips, firmly taking his cock into her hand. Ulfric hummed low in his chest at that, letting his head drop lower as she steadily worked him to fuller hardness. He gasped once she finally pressed a finger in. 

She couldn’t help it, she was curious. “How does it feel?” Ulfric was silent for a long moment as she worked her finger in and out of him. 

“Odd…” he seemed to decide finally. “Not unpleasant. It just feels odd.” 

 

She went slow, making sure to give him just the right amount of attention on both ends, slowly adding a second finger, then a third. It wasn’t until she curled her fingers just right that she finally managed to pull a shuddering gasp from her husband. 

“Was that good?” 

“It was…” He paused.

“Don’t say odd again.” 

“No,” Ulfric laughed, breathy and tight. “It was good. Just… do it once more?” She pushed in again, up to her knuckles, curling her fingers down. Her own arousal coiled hot in her stomach at the sound of his deep moan. His dick twitched in her hand.

“That’s more like it.” She grinned. “Do you want more of this, or are you ready?”    
“...More of this. Just…” He groaned again as Luminwe fisted his length tighter, fucking him open with her fingers. She felt drunk on the power of it, watching the taut, sweat-damp muscles of his back contract with her movement. She groaned, heat swirling between her legs, her pussy becoming slick with want. She removed her fingers and Ulfric muffled a gasped, looking back. 

 

“Already?” 

“You trust me, right?” She leaned over his back, kissing between his shoulder blades. She let the length of her strap-on rub against his inner thigh before pulling back and retrieving more oil. 

“I do,” he rumbled, and Luminwe’s smile widened, leaning forward and peppering his sides and back with kisses while she stroked oil along the length of her new toy. 

“I’m going to go slow, alright? Tell me if I need to stop.”

 

She lined up and began to press in, feeling an almost unyielding pressure at first. Ulfric was completely silent, fisting the sheets a little too tightly, knuckles bone white. Finally she began to sink forward, stretching him open. He let out a long, shuddering sigh and she couldn’t help but do the same. 

“Alright?” She asked, her voice almost too loud to her own ears - a little shaky. 

“Yes,” Ulfric practically breathed. She wished she could see his face. Pressing in to the hilt, she let out a long breath, reaching forward and running her hand across the top of his shoulders.

“Still good?” 

“Just…” He groaned. “Just start moving.” 

 

So she did, drawing halfway out and pushing back in. Ulfric let out a grunt, pushing a hand against the mattress.

“Again,” he demanded. 

“So pushy…”    
“Please,” he added, and  _ that _ was lovely. Luminwe acquiesced, smirking. She furrowed her brow and let out a small moan as the curved, ribbed back of the piece pressed against her clit. She bit her lower lip, anxious to pick up the pace. She pulled almost all the way out, slowly pushing back in, making sure Ulfric was fully adjusting. He sighed, long and heavy, letting his head drop again. 

“Faster,” he all but growled, and Luminwe didn’t need to be told twice. She snapped her hips into motion, pushing a muffled grunt out of Ulfric as he braced himself against the mattress.

 

They fell into a rocking rhythm, both of them completely focused and nearly silent apart from the errant gasp or groan. With each forward thrust Luminwe felt her own pleasure building, the fleeting pressure against her clit with each push and pull driving her mad. She began to speed up, chasing her own release. The backs of her thighs were beginning to cramp, the muscles in her stomach protesting, unused to sustaining this motion for so long. Ulfric snaked a hand between his legs, wrapping it around his cock and pumping himself in time to the rhythm she had set. Something about that small action made Luminwe groan wantonly. She pushed harder, the slapping sound of skin-on-skin loud in the quiet room. Ulfric was beginning to pant raggedly, using the momentum of Luminwe’s thrust to fuck into his own fist. It was intoxicating to watch, to know that she was the one undoing him like this. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling her climax swell, almost painfully - burning heat and electricity sparking along her midline. She thrust in one more then came with a breathy gasp, groaning loudly as she ground herself against the inside of the harness, squeezing Ulfric’s hips tightly.

 

Ulfric didn’t last much longer, working his own dick with almost furious intent. He came as silently as he ever did - several long exhales through his nose being the only indication that he’d found his release. His jerked his free hand down to catch his spend, pressing his forehead into the mattress, breath coming out in heavy huffs. Luminwe, through the haze of her orgasm, suddenly felt mildly guilty that they hadn’t thought to put down an old cloth or something beforehand - mostly because she hadn’t actually expected him to get off. She rubbed a hand across his back soothingly before slowly pulling out. 

 

“That… was pretty damn good,” she laughed breathily. Ulfric sat up slowly, looking at the cum in his palm as though it were an egregious offense. Luminwe laughed more openly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Let me get you a cloth.” She slid off the bed, beginning to unbuckle her strap-on as she walked over to their dresser. Ulfric was still silent, his breathing slightly labored. Grabbing an old strip of fabric, Luminwe made her way to their wash basin, rinsing her hands and her new favorite toy, as well as dampening the cloth. She walked to Ulfric and handed him the soft bit of fabric.

“Are you doing alright?” She pushed some hair away from this forehead, still shimmering with sweat.

“Hmm,” he hummed, wiping the mess off his hands. “I’ll confess that I enjoyed that more than I anticipated.” 

“See?” Luminwe couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. “I knew you would.” She let him pull her down onto the bed to lie against him. He stroked her hair absentmindedly, his breath finally returning to normal. Luminwe felt incredibly tired in the wake of her orgasm and let her eyes fall closed, sighing contentedly. 

“Where did you commission that thing?” Ulfric rumbled right as she was about to fall asleep. 

“Adrianne Avenicci of War Maiden.” She yawned. “Why?”

Ulfric made a thoughtful noise that she felt more than heard. “Just curious what else she might make.” 


End file.
